Unglamorous
by Kaslyna
Summary: "The first time Peter leaves Olivia alone with Etta is when she is three months old." A series of nonlinear, interconnected oneshots about Peter, Olivia, and Etta, with appearances of Walter and Astrid. All will be K ; anything M rated from this series will be posted in a separate story so as to not alienate those who do not wish to read M rated fictions.


**A/N: Had this idea for a while. Figured even if it is a tad angsty it's better than what's in my head after that episode. I won't say anymore than that. In this story, Etta was born sometime in November 2012.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sorry. :/**

The first time Peter leaves Olivia alone with Etta is when she is three months old. She is tiny, fragile really, and Olivia is absolutely terrified. Still, she promised Peter she would be okay on his own. He needed to take Walter to Massive Dynamic because of a case they were working on, and Astrid had a family reunion that weekend. It wasn't fair for Olivia to ask Astrid to take Peter's place, nor would she have done so. It was pathetic, really, being this afraid of being alone with your three month old daughter, but she was. She hadn't been so scared since the first time she had felt Etta kick and realized that all of this was really happening. That was the day when everything became clear and real, and also the day Olivia realized just how truly afraid she was. Not that she hadn't felt it before, but she hadn't realized quite yet just how horrifying it was. Motherhood. It was terrifying, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. It was worse, being in Fringe Division, knowing what could go wrong that nobody else could know. Sometimes Olivia felt irrationally jealous that other moms just worried about colic and other various illnesses. She worried about those, too, but she also worried about other, more horrific things. Even if Olivia could have told someone, it was too horrifying to describe exactly what she saw on a day to day basis. These were things new mothers should have no knowledge of.

It was ten in the morning, and Peter had left with Walter half an hour ago, giving both his girls a kiss. She had fed and changed Etta, who was now lying contentedly on her back on the playmat contraption that had taken Astrid, Peter, and Walter three hours to complete with a heavily pregnant Olivia supervising.

Etta now coos, looking up at the mother lying next to her and smiling that smile that Peter swears isn't gas; Olivia's still not sure, but she can't help but smile anyway. Here is her perfect baby daughter who is more than happy to lie on her back under a mobile she doesn't have the coordination to reach. She is happy with Olivia, and Olivia is in awe that she can be.

She wasn't meant to be a mother. Olivia Dunham Bishop swore not to become a mother, and yet, it happened. She would never give up Etta, not for anything, but it doesn't make the sense of having been tricked into a life she never asked for lessen. She was too afraid after the Cortexiphan trials and all that she saw as an adult to bring an innocent child into this cruel world where too many things could harm him or her. She loves kids, she does, but she never thought she'd have one of her own. Still, Etta is perfect and everything Olivia could have asked for. Peter had been there, supportive but careful to not be overbearing, keeping her steady the entirety of her pregnancy and even after Etta's birth. Astrid helped with most of the shopping for the nursery, and Walter made raunchy jokes and suggested names. In the end, Olivia had an excellent pregnancy. Some might say it was the best, perhaps even too easy. Olivia isn't complaining, though. She's glad it wasn't too taxing, or the job of being a mother and a wife-something else Olivia is _not_ used to at all-would be that much more difficult. She got lucky. At thirty-three, Olivia has a loving husband and the best little girl. There's nothing else she could really want. As unsettled as she feels right now, she is so happy and so blessed.

Etta has started to cry now, and Olivia is brought out of her reverie by the sound. She hates this sound, her daughter's cries. It makes her feel desperate and inadequate, irrational as that may be. She just wishes that her baby could be slightly less demanding; then, perhaps, she wouldn't always feel like she was being judged by her daughter.

It's unhealthy, she knows it is. It's so unhealthy and irrational, and thoughts like these rarely come unless it's night and she's alone with a screaming Etta who won't fall asleep until she's being rocked and sung to. Sometimes, Peter will come in and find Olivia asleep with Etta on her chest, also asleep, in the rocking chair. Other times, he finds her sitting in the chair, singing and crying at the same time because Etta won't stop crying and she's just so frustrated. They both suspect Olivia of having post-partum depression, but Olivia doesn't want to go to the doctor beyond necessary checkups and Peter knows better than to press the issue. If she wants to get help, he will gladly support her, but until then, he won't bother. He knows his wife too well, enough to know it'll be worse if he pushes.

They were married roughly two months before Etta's arrival, and their little girl was late by ten days. She hated being so pregnant; she had tried _everything_ to induce labor, and yet, nothing worked. Etta was just as stubborn as her mom, apparently.

She's being stubborn now, in fact. Olivia has gone and made her a bottle, juggling Etta in the other arm as she does so. She hadn't attempted breastfeeding; even if there wasn't any Cortexiphan left in her body, Olivia was too afraid of their still being negative effects on the baby. The last thing she needed was Etta spontaneously combusting. The thought alone is gruesome and terrifying.

Etta is now drinking from her bottle, tears still leaking from perfect blue eyes Peter swears won't fade with time. She secretly hopes not; she loves those eyes. Etta is a perfect blend of Peter and herself. Blue eyes that are undoubtedly Peter's, a tuft of blonde atop her head. She has lips and nose that vaguely resemble her mother's; her eye shape is all Peter. She even sees Walter in Etta's facial expressions, and she's not sure if that's more terrifying than anything they see on a day to day basis. Olivia often wonders how she became so lucky, so blessed. How did she get the perfect one?

After Etta is done with her bottle and the tears have subsided, Olivia burps her gently and sets her in her crib for a nap. Etta sleeps with her little limbs akimbo, head turned to the side and a faint smile on her lips. Olivia wonders, briefly, what Etta is dreaming about, if anything at all. Probably her lavender stuffed rabbit that Astrid bought her and maybe the color pink. Their daughter is, without a doubt, a girly-girl. She finds it sweet, and she secretly loves being able to spoil Etta with various pretty things. She's in a light pink onesie that declares DADDY'S PRINCESS in large hot pink bubble letters, a tiny crown underneath in the same obnoxious color as the letters. Peter had bought it for her, and in retaliation, Olivia had bought an FBI onesie. Peter found said onesie hysterical, much to Olivia's annoyance. She just couldn't win with him when it came to spoiling their daughter.

Of all of them, Walter is one of the people who spoils Etta the most. At three months, Olivia's little girl has both her grandpa and her daddy wrapped around her little finger. Astrid, too, though Astrid is too practical to compete in the spoiling wars that they go through. Not that Olivia is immune; if anything, Olivia is wrapped most tightly around Etta's finger. Every whim, every desire, Etta has, Olivia attempts to accomplish as quickly and most care possible. She loves her daughter. She does.

It's scary, really. To love another human being so much, yet to be responsible for them at the same time. How do you love someone unconditionally and want the very best for them if you're constantly making sure to keep them safe? It's a different love, mother love, and it's the kind of love that scares Olivia the most, she's found. She had thought it was scary to be in love with Peter at first, but that is nothing compared to loving Etta. Having a daughter is positively terrifying.

At the same time, it's the best thing in all the worlds.

* * *

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful. Etta eats, sleeps, and has her diaper changed multiple times. She cries, and Olivia answers. They play games that set Etta into fits of giggles, the sound as harmonious and serene as a peal of bells. It's beautiful, her daughter's laugh, and Olivia finds herself falling inevitably even more in love with this tiny creature. She's perfect. She is.

After Etta's had her dinner bottle and Olivia's eaten leftover Indian food, Olivia decides to bathe her. Etta hates baths. She loathes them, in fact. Olivia hates to be the one to cause her daughter any pain, even one so minor as a bath, but she does so anyway. Once Etta is all cleaned up, Olivia puts a diaper on her, followed by a sack-like nightgown in mint green gingham. Etta goes down surprisingly easy for once, much to Olivia's relief. Olivia smiles softly at her daughter, gives her a kiss on the forehead, and places her in the crib. She's somehow done it. She's managed to keep her daughter as happy as can be for a day. She feels accomplished, more so than ever before as a mother.

Olivia is in bed by 9:30, asleep by 10:00. Etta wakes up all of three times that night, finally deciding to be up for good around 6:30. Even still, it's the best sleep Olivia has had in a long while. She's feeding Etta her breakfast in Etta's nursery when she hears Peter come in and she smiles. He's home at last, and she's okay. She made it.

"Olivia?" he asks, hesitating in the doorway of the nursery.

"Hey," she murmurs gently, smiling down at the baby in her arms.

"Hey," there is a noticeable twinge of relief in his voice as he walks in, smiling at the scene.

"We're okay. We had an uneventful day yesterday. This little one had a bath, and she only woke up three times last night!" Olivia proclaims happily.

He grins, "How'd the bath go?"

"Surprisingly well," she answers, "She went down easy, too."

"Good," he says softly.

Etta is now done, and Peter takes her and a burp rag. Once Etta is burped, he pulls back to give a kiss on her forehead. Both baby and father grin goofily at the other.

"Hey, baby girl, I missed you," he coos to her, and Olivia smiles, heart melting. This is her family, and she's so blessed.

"We missed you, too," Olivia says, and he grins at her, walking over.

Peter adjusts the baby, leans down to give Olivia a kiss. He pulls back with a resounding smack, still grinning. Etta is babbling now, those happy baby noises he loves so much. He loves his family, what they were and what they've become.

"Walter is coming for lunch. I hope that's okay?"

"It's fine," Olivia replies, "Is Astrid coming, too?"

"If the reunion ends on time and she's not wiped out, then yes," Peter responds.

"Aunt Astrid needs Etta time," Olivia grins.

"Pretty much," Peter chuckles, "Can't stop talking about how she can't wait to see her again. She misses her."

"She just saw her two days ago," Olivia laughs.

"Exactly, but who can't get enough of this little munchkin?"

"She is pretty perfect," Olivia agrees.

Peter grins, "Hear that, Etta? Mommy thinks you're perfect!"

Etta coos, and both parents laugh. Olivia looks at Peter and Peter looks at her. She realizes that it's going to be okay. They have each other, and they have Etta. Neither will ever truly be alone anymore, and she's okay with that. In fact, she's glad about that. They have their family that they've somehow managed to create, and it's as perfect as perfect can be, albeit dysfunctional at times, with their work and Walter. It's their family, though, and she really can't complain. Especially not about Peter and Etta. Not about _them_. Peter has supported her, will support her, through anything and everything. Etta is just beginning, a fresh canvas, a blank slate. Perfect in every single way. Her family.

They will be okay.

She knows they will.


End file.
